Sims 3: Teenage Rebel
by Rougeification
Summary: Seventeen-year-old Scott Riley, son of the mayor, James King, and half-brother of the star quarterback, Sam King, has never really been able to 'conform'. What will happen when he encounters the feud between the Kings and Altos and the Goths and Landgraabs? As he dons the leather jacket and returns to Sunset Valley, it seems he's a big shock to the small town. Strong language.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue:

James King was living the dream. He was the James Bond of Sunset Valley - only instead of being a spy, he was a local representative of Sunset Valley. He had bought beachfront property, and contracted builders to construct his elaborately decorated beach house. Of course, since he was so rich, he would have to have a mansion by the beach - so he could probably get a yacht to pick him up on speed dial.

Mr. King was handsome, successful, charming, and proved to be very popular around the town - mainly with the women, though. At the age of only seventeen, he was a billionaire - inheriting money from his father's corporate empire after the plane crash overseas. He was always in the papers, he drove the fastest cars, threw the biggest parties, dated the prettiest women and had the wittiest humour. Yes, all in all, Mr. King was exactly just that - the King.

Of course, every king must have an heir - you see, James King wasn't the most subtle man, and was constantly interviewed about his latest affair. Not that he cared for subtlety - he enjoyed the attention. Needless to say, his public relations agent was constantly stressed out. Imagine how stressed the agent would've have been two years after the plane crash, when two women came forwards claiming that they were carrying James King's child; one was Jamie Jolina, a surgeon renown for her beauty and intellect. Needless to say, King accepted this woman's claim, and eventually managed to win custody of the baby two years after it's birth, improving his status as a 'family man'.

However, three days before Jamie Jolina's claim, another woman, Jane Riley, came forwards, claiming that she was carrying King's child. Jane Riley was a journalist. Well, she was a sort of journalist - a freelance writer. You know, the one who writes about the celebrities? Yeah, that type. Needless to say, this story wasn't given much coverage at first, but when King admitted the child was his (after a month of adamantly insisting it wasn't), the entire press industry boomed - exclusives, interviews - there was a 7-month adventure for the press, in which they would get pictures of the sonograms, and interview the parents about names. Eventually, the children were born - Jane Riley's first, and Jamie Jolina's second. Although, the difference was a matter of two days, so it didn't really matter which was born first.

Jamie Jolina named her son Samuel Paul King-Jolina, although this was changed to Samuel Paul King after James King won custody. Jane Riley, on the other hand, called her son Scott Damon Riley, after her father, Damon Riley, and her grandfather, Scott Hills.

Now, this is where I come in - I'm Scott Damon Riley. You see, my dad, James, never won custody of me, but it was shared custody, so I spent a lot of time around his as a kid. I never really enjoyed it though - when he wasn't working, he would insist on us playing football (I never really took to it, although Sam always did) and when he was working, I would have to spend time with my half-brother, which never turned out well - we would always fight. In my opinion, he would always start it. Anyway, I was sent to some fancy boarding school 'Smuggsworth' which I eventually got kicked out of, while Sam excelled at his Dribbledine Sports Academy. Anyway, when I was fifteen, I was caught graffitiing the side of the Town Hall - mainly because my dad had just been elected the Mayor, and I was generally pissed off at him. So, the police caught up with me, brought me back to my mum, my dad had a go at her, blah blah blah - eventually he came to the conclusion that we were more trouble than we were worth, so he sent us packing to Bridgeport for a couple of years. Basically, my mum got this big opportunity to be a lead reporter in some cultured country - Champs Les Sims. Anyway, she couldn't take me with her, so I was sent back to Sunset Valley, my hometown, to live with my dad and half-brother. Now that's where the real story begins...


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter One

Sunset Valley. It was a juxtaposition to it's neighboring city, Bridgeport, where I had lived with my mum for the past two years. The suburban houses, the wholesome diners and stores and the beaches made a change from the traffic and the smoke and the noise of the city. I didn't like the quiet. Even though I had only lived in the city for two years, I missed it - it felt like my home. However, now this was meant to be my home - some mansion on the beach.

I picked up my bag, putting it over my shoulder, and I walked up to the door, pressing the doorbell and waiting.

Opening the door was my dad, James King - the James Bond guy I told you about. He wore a bright linen shirt that was tucked into his cream slacks, with a matching cream tie. His black coffee hair was neatly combed - I presumed he had come from a commemoration on the beach or something. He gave me a half-interested look as he leant on the doorway, a glass of bourbon in one hand.

"Back again Scott?" I clenched my jaw, looking away from him. I knew he was trying to provoke me - it was his way of passing the time. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "Where's Jane?"

"Abroad."

"How is she?"

"Why do you care?"

"I don't." He said, casually sipping his drink. "You're not going to be any trouble." He informed me.

"You're in for a shock." I said lowly.

"You're not going to do any more of your graffiti."

"Aren't I?"

"No." He said sternly. "You will go to school, you will come back from school, you will not get into trouble."

"Or else what?" I asked, looking him dead in the eye, proving I wasn't going to back down to him. He chuckled after another mouthful of bourbon.

"Okay James Dean, how about this: you don't get caught doing your crimes, I don't have to scold you about it. Don't mess with my life, I won't mess with yours. I'll let you stay rent-free, and you can access your own account. Deal?"

"That's the dream." I said, walking in after James walked from the doorway. He sat back down on the sofa. It seems that he wasn't messing with my life starting right away - that's ideal.

I slung the back over my shoulder and walked up the stairs to the first floor, where I found one room with the door open, inside was an exercising Sam. I rolled my eyes and proceeded up another floor, and then another, until I came to the attic bedroom: It was one room, the size of the entire floor, with more than enough room for three bedrooms. I grinned at the sight of it - I couldn't even hear the TV or Sam's grunts from exercising. I walked over to bed and placed my bag on it, looking around: There were a lot of tarps over objects. After removing them all, I found an old bookshelf along the wall, along with two leather arm chairs and a sofa, four boxes full of books - fiction and non-fiction, a snooker table, a TV and a small fridge near the sofa, as well as a kettle.

Now, naturally, I would have assumed that James was mad for keeping this stuff up here, but I knew James - he had 'given' me this stuff so I wouldn't have to leave my room that much - there was even a bathroom, and a screen that opened up onto the balcony, which overlooked the sea. I turned to the skylight-sized window on the opposite side of the balcony, and could see the entirety of Sunset Valley. I grinned to myself - maybe this wouldn't be so bad - I'd only need to leave for school - I mean, it's not like I would have any friends here - I never did before.

There was a valid reason for this however: James' aunt Rose was the mother of Vita Alto, yes as in _that_ Alto. James was also close friends with Nick, and because of this, he was aligned with the Alto family in the Sunset Valley Fued: the Landgraab and Goth families were what was typically associated with 'old money' - people who inherit. Like the Kings - my family. We were 'old money' on James' fathers side. However, the Alto's had built their corporate empire from ground up, and so what was classified as 'new money' or 'Nouveau Riche' amongst the Upper-Class (i.e. the Landgraabs and Goths). This was frowned upon as they were seen as being untraditional to make your own money. Anyway, the Altos had a feud with the Landgraabs, the iconic 'old money' family. Once the Kings had sided with their cousins, the Altos, they had a disagreement with the Goths, and so the four wealthy families found themselves on two sides against each other; the Kings and the Altos against the Landgraabs and the Goths.

Because of this, I had never managed to befriend any of the members of our enemy families, but I also despised my own family - apart from Sam. We never really got on - I'm not too sure why - I guess we just clashed. Also, he would enjoy being seen as the favorite child... it pissed me off to an extreme...

I turned around to see him, standing there in his striped t-shirt and jeans, looking me up and down.

"What are you doing back here?" He asked me.

"What, no hug brother?" I asked innocently.

"What are you doing back?" He repeated.

"I missed my brother." I grinned. I knew he disliked the relation as much as I did, and although I had initially detested the word, I had grown to like it, and the amusing distain I gained from Sam. "Have you cut your hair shorter?" I asked, examining the gelled style atop his head. "I like it." I grinned. "Beats that old buzzcut..."

"You hated Sunset Valley - why would you want to come back?" I shrugged smugly. "This place is too small."

"What, for the two of us Clint Eastwood?"

"For you. You'll get bored eventually."

"I doubt that." I smiled. "You know, on the bus I saw those cheerleaders." He stiffened. "Do I need to be on the team to spend time with them or...?"

"As if they'd go for something like you Scottie." That word there - 'something' is what pissed me off. He saw this as I immediately dropped the smirk.

Satisfied, he left my room, going down the stairs. I shook my head.

"Fucking families..." I muttered as I began to unpack my clothes and belongings into the attic, and into my life here at Sunset Valley.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2

**Thank you guys for the reviews! Sorry I haven't updated in a bit - I'm in exam weeks - but I finish on Tuesday! I'm also going up to Reading to see Feeder and James Arthur, so that's my motivation for everything at the moment. Anyway, enjoy the second chapter of Scott's return to Sunset Valley - school.**

_**Reviews...**_

_**Bayd1074 - **__Thanks! I know, Shakespeare used one, so it must be good! Actually, there are a lot of Shakespeare elements in this story, believe it or not - see if you can spot them!_

_**Kajarocksu - **__I shall keep going. Hope you love this one just as much!_

I awoke to the loud ringing from my alarm clock. I lazily threw an arm out of bed to hit the snooze, which bought me another five minutes of total bliss. When the alarm sounded again, I was even more reluctant to wake up, but I knew I must, so I managed to hit the button for alarm to stop - assuring myself I would get up in another ten minutes if I had total silence, but the sudden music that blared from my alarm clock caused me to groggily roll out of bed.

I changed my briefs and pulled on some jeans, then grabbed a white t-shirt, pulling it on with a black sweater. I began to pull on my Vans and lace them up, when a figure emerged at the top of my stairs: Sam.

"How'd you sleep? Hey, guess what, I don't care." He said in one breath before setting eyes on me. "Dad says you're coming to Community today." I paused.

"Community what?"

"School." I let out a scoff.

"No I'm not." I said in disbelief.

"I don't like it anymore than you do." He said, glancing around my room, if only to look at something other than me. "I just figured we should establish some ground rules."

"Great." I sighed. "More rules. I'm one lucky bunny."

"We're not to talk or acknowledge each other in school."

"That's a given."

"We're not to talk about our... relation." He finally discovered the word. I shook my head, chuckling.

"You're like a miniature James." I said. I felt... disappointed. I didn't know why though - I had never expected anything else from Sam, but seeing it now... it hit home. He clenched his jaw.

"I'm driving to school, do you want a lift?"

"We're not meant to be seen in public remember?"

"I'm obliged to ask you." He muttered. I grinned.

"I'll take the pedalo!" I shouted after Sam as he walked down the stairs. I shook my head. First I had to live with the mayor and his 'All-American-Star-Quarterback', and now I had to go to school with him.

As I picked up my black leather jacket, I considered bunking off school, but I knew James would check I had enrolled, and so decided I'd turn up today - maybe I could bunk off after enrolling. I made my way down the stairs, and there I found James, at his laptop - nothing had changed in the last two years. I approached the door to leave before he spoke.

"You need keys." He informed me.

"No I don't." I replied back, closing the door as I exited. I walked down the steps from the second story and onto the ground, where I moved past the swimming pool and towards the garage. Well, I wasn't going to take the bus! Besides, James probably had some turbo-charged car and driving that would piss him off, a nice little bonus to looking cool.

I fiddled with the lock for less than a minute and then opened the door, walking in to find no pedal bike - just two large tarps in front of me. I flicked the switch to turn on the lights and found another tarp at the back - a smaller tarp. I walked over to it, my curiosity piqued. This could not be what I thought it was - no way was he ever cool enough to ride one!

I pulled back the tarp to reveal a Harley Davison! An actual motorcycle! I used to ride one in Bridgeport (well, a motorbike actually) but eventually she conked out - it was a sad experience for me. I grinned to myself as I sat on the glossy black bike, running a hand along the chrome metal bars. I couldn't resist. I got off of the bike and rushed over to the board on the wall that held all the keys, and found one with a Harley Davison keyring - I figured this must be the one. I returned to the bike, picking up the black helmet on my way. I walked the bike out of the garage, closing the door behind me, and then I mounted the bike, inserting the key into ignition and initiating the engine. I couldn't help but beam at the low growl of the engine. I revved it once, the loud growl amusing me like a baby with a new toy. I revved it once more, grinning like an idiot. I hastily put on the helmet, made sure my bag was closed and then I set off on the road, the engine roaring loudly, announcing my presence to the entire town, much like a lion in a jungle - that's exactly how I felt: like a lion pouncing on it's prey, causing the nearby antelope in the school to flurry in a panic.

I was too caught up in my similies and metaphors to realize the girl that had stupidly walked in front of my bike. I braked imediately, swerving to avoid her. I stopped half a metre away from her, angrily pulling up my visor. Was this girl completely brain-dead? Who the hell would walk into the middle of a road? And you'd think the noise I was making would alert her to the danger? She simply stood there, aghast; she was around my age, with a blonde ponytail and dyed black tips, which stood out amongst her white blouse. I stared angrily at her, trying to figure out what to say, when her friend of a similar age walked up, her face matching her red jacket. She proceeded to angrily shout at me.

"Why don't you watch where you're going? You don't speed in a school zone!" I revved my bike loudly, drowning out her words, which only proceeded to make her angrier. A blonde boy in a dark jacket and slacks moved up to the duo, muttering lowly, and hastily trying to drag them out of the road, glancing back to me. I shook my head, pulled down my visor and parked by the cars.

I pulled off my visor, still looking after the trio - what the hell was their problem? Was that girl a complete and utter idiot? Who the hell walks out in a road without paying attention to, oh I don't know, cars at least? I took off my helmet and walked up the steps and into the hell-hole called 'school'.

I sat outside the principle's office - it had been referbished since I had left - faster computers, leather chairs, oak bookshelves courtesy of James I presumed. I had to wait around for an introductory talk from the principle, which meant I was missing class at the moment - works for me.

I picked up a pencil from the neat and organized row on the secretary's desk beside me and began to sharpen it in the electric utility - much to the woman's displeasure. I eventually removed it, examining the javelin-like lead. Eventually I heard the principle call for me.

"Mr. Riley, would you please come in?" I picked myself up from the chair, hoisting my bag over my shoulder, and fiddling with the pencil while I stood in the doorway, waiting patiently for the two students in there to leave. "Without the sharp object if you would please."

The two students then moved to get up - I immediately noticed the girl's hair - the black tips stood out against her white blouse. She began to walk towards the doorway, then stopped a yard or so away from me, waiting for me to move. I didn't - I just stood there.

"Have you ever heard of personal space?" She asked sarcastically. I just blinked at her, looking boldly into her eyes. Eventually, she dropped her gaze and barged past me. I narrowed my eyes after her, somehow amused.

"Hey, jackass," I looked towards the other teenager, who also wore a leather jacket - a rare sight in somewhere as sunny as Sunset Valley, "learn some manners." I looked at him - my face unmoving. I remained unfazed by his threatening demeanour, and didn't stop staring until he left. I noticed the jet black hair that hung over his eyes - was he that Goth kid? Like, the family Goth? He looked like one...

"Mr. Riley." the principle smiled. "You know, I enjoyed the two years bliss I got when you moved to Bridgeport." She informed me.

"Yeah, well so did I." I said, sitting down in the chair in front of her desk.

"I have your records here from your old school." Great. Smuggsworth. "Vandalism, drinking, smoking, speeding in a school zone, fighting, truancy and verbal abuse." She shook her head. "That's quite a rap sheet." I cocked an eyebrow.

"What is this, interrogation room two?" She chuckled at me.

"You won't want to do any of that here Mr. Riley."

"I'll take your word for it." I replied.

"Get your timetable from outside, you can find your way to your classes; there's only one building."

"Aw, so you do care?" I asked sarcastically - she just rolled her eyes. I grabbed my bag from the floor and stood up, exiting the room.

I eventually found my way down the corridor to the room printed on my timetable - F13. Maths. Great. Bunking off seemed so tempting right now... but alas: I opened the door to find the teacher asleep, and the students on their phones. I looked around the classroom - not one familiar face. Then I noticed the blonde boy in the jacket that had shuffled the two girls away. He examined me for a moment, then leant over to talk to the Goth-like boy. I looked at the teacher once more, then turned around and walked out of the classroom, going to walk down the halls.

"Where do you think you're going?" I turned around to see a teacher standing there.

"Home." I replied.

"Not in school time - where are you supposed to be?" He asked me.

"Maths." I replied.

"With whom?" I pulled out the crumpled timetable to make out the name.

"Mr. McHavisham." I replied.

"You've got some luck - that's me." He smiled. I sighed.

"Some luck." I repeated.

"Come inside, I'll introduce you." He insisted, practically dragging me into the classroom with perky demeanor.

"No no, not necessary-" I tried to protest, but I was already inside the classroom.

"Now class, this is young Mr. Riley." I looked around the class of bored students, only a few lifted their heads to acknowledge me. I felt like a child being introduced to a new class at nursery - that was how he was treating me. "He almost went into history, don't worry, there was a room change this morning." He informed me.

"Fantastic." I muttered. I walked down the aisles of chairs and desks until I came to the back row, where I sat and remained for the rest of the lesson.

I came out of the classroom, bored out of my brain. This was why I hated school - it wasn't hard, I wasn't bullied - it was just boring! I swear, I hated school - I could not stand going to lessons, sitting quietly at the back, being a good little boy, making life easy for James - it just made me so angry!

I began to walk down the corridors of the school for the break, which had just been initiated by the ringing of the bell. I didn't know anybody here - not a single person; when I used to live in Sunset Valley, I didn't really get a chance to talk to a lot of the people - I doubted any of them actually knew what I looked like - the fact I was an aspect of James King's cautionary tale of getting too close to a reporter was well-known.

I dawdled down the corridor, wondering how to best spend my time. Nothing came to mind - I didn't have any friends to talk to, or a girlfriend to meet up with, or any homework to catch up on (not that I would anyway). Not to say I wanted friends or a girlfriend - I didn't particularly like anyone in Sunset Valley.

I decided I would go to the garage for my shop class - it was just about the closest thing I had to a hobby, and that was because of the fact I didn't have to think about anything - it was mainly just manual work to me. I had thought about becoming a mechanic often, as it was the only thing I enjoyed, but I decided against it - despite it being a hobby, it was still work to me, and I hated working. I guess I just didn't see the point - especially when life offered so much - like drinking and flirting in Bridgeport.

My line of thought was snapped in half as I collided into the body of Sam, who was in a letterman jacket. How cliched. His books lay on the floor, as he looked expectantly at me.

"Pick them up." He ordered me.

"Nice try Sam, this isn't the showers." I said, earning a scowl. A majority of the students in the halls had turned to look at what was happening.

"Pick. Them. Up." He said again.

"Pick them up yourself." I shook my head, and turned to walk away. "What a douchebag..." I muttered, only to have an object heavily hit the back of my head. I turned around to see one of the heavy volumes lying behind me.

I dropped my bag off of my shoulder, sprinted up to Sam and grabbed the collar of his shirt, slamming him into a locker. He shoved me back and threw a punch into my face, sending me skidding along the floor. I pushed myself up and tackled him down, throwing punches into his face three times. He eventually, blocked a punch and shoved me off of him. As he stood back up and launched another fist into my face, only he grabbed my t-shirt and delivered more blows to my face. I blocked the third punch, and grabbed his neck, pulling him past me and sending him down the corridor, where the crowds of students parted. We ran into each other again, wrestling each other into the lockers. Eventually he slammed me into one, pulling back a fist to hit me. I dodged it as it clanged into the locker where my head was and I launched my head into his, knocking him back, disorientated. I threw another punch into his face, sending him back onto the floor. He shoved himself up, but as he ran at me, a figure came between us. A teacher was holding him back, while another student was restraining me.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Shouted the teacher.

"Get this jerk out of here!" Shouted Sam, glaring at me.

"Don't worry!" I shouted, shoving the student away from me. "I'm leaving!" I snatched up my bag and stormed out, glaring at Sam while I exited the school.

Fuck this.

**Tense... hope you guys are enjoying this! Don't forget to R&R!**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Three

**Hey guys! I know it's been a while, but I've been busy - here's the latest istallment!**

"Really?" I put my book down on my chest and looked at the towering figure above me. "Fighting, on your first day at school?" I rolled my eyes and brought back the book to my eyes. "What the hell was inside that thick little head of yours when you picked a fight with Sam?"

"Mainly a brain... some blood, oxygen - the usual." I answered cavalierly; I didn't see the point of protesting my innocence - who would believe the demonic Scott Riley over the paragon that is Sam King? I was used to it, and expected no sympathy or benefits of doubt.

"Stop being a smartass for once in your damn life. I want you to keep your head down and stay out of trouble! Can you imagine what the headlines would read like if one of your little escapades was made public?" I dropped the book and sat up from my bed, facing him dead in the eye.

"I'm sorry, I thought _I_ was one of _your_ 'escapades' made public." He clenched his jaw.

"Did you ride the bike to school?"

"No."

"How do you know what bike I'm talking about?"

"I don't - you just told me there's a bike." I saw his teeth begin to grind - he was really livid his trophy of a son had a couple of bruises.

"If you ride that bike again, I will have it crushed."

"Oh, so if I don't ride it, you'll have it in the garage, rusting away and taking up space? That's moronic!"

"Did you just call me a moron?"

"Well, if I don't have my own way of getting to school, I'll have to carpool with Sam." I saw the cogs in his mind working as he considered all the destructive results of a said scenario. "Hey, you're the one who insisted I go to the school, and I have to keep my head down, so unless you fancy fights every day near the town hall, I'd suggest you let me keep my bike."

"_Your _bike?"

"Well, I'm the only one here who'll ride it. I guess that makes it my responsibility to do it." He rose and fell, breathing heavily and angrily until he reached his decision.

"If you get into an accident, you don't come crying to me. Not when they have to cut you out from underneath a pick-up truck." He began to march out of my room.

"Why the hell would I expect sympathy from you?" I called after him. "You're not exactly the poster-boy for fatherhood are you?" I heard a door slam in the distance and turned back to my bed, riled up from him now.

I picked up the book, trying to read it again, but I felt too angry and restless to do something as passive as reading. I threw it across the room, exerting some energy. I cursed a little as I moved across my room, picking the book up and putting it back on it's shelf.

"I hate this place." I muttered, walking towards the screen and opening it onto the large balcony. I looked over the beach, the golden sand glistening as the waves lapped over them, cascading into the glimmering rocks, and the rays of the bright sun shimmering through the azure tide, forming golden lines along the drowned sand...

I felt depressed suddenly. I had no idea why - here I was in possibly the most carefree location, and I was unhappy. Well... not unhappy, just not happy, if that makes sense? Like, I had no energy within me at all at the moment... to be honest, I missed my mom. I wished I could just talk to her...

I took out my phone, and flitted through the contacts until I came to the name: Jane. I proceeded to call the name, and waited as the phone began to ring. I heard the familiar voice, informing me of how she wasn't available at the moment, and then instructing me how to leave a message.

"Hey, mom. It's Scott. So, I'm in Sunset Valley... I got here safe, with James and Sam." I looked down at the ground, my toes drilling into the balcony. "So, I just wanted to talk to you... see how you're getting on - what it's like over there. Everyone here is kind of weird and... wholesome. I miss Bridgeport you know? But erm... anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I'm safe... and that I miss you mom. So, I'll call you back some other time, when you're not too busy." I hesitated, considering whether I should not say it. "I love you mom." I finally said, pausing, as if she would suddenly return it to me. "So... yeah. Bye." I took the phone back from my ear and ended the call, sighing deeply as I leant my head over the balcony, exhaling. As my gaze swept towards the balcony towards me, I saw Sam sunbathing, trying to get tanned for when he'll unexpectedly whip off his shirt at football practice no doubt. I looked around for something to drop on him - the heavier the better. I resorted to a glass of water... well, the water at least. I grinned to myself as he started rolling around in a panic of what liquid had flopped onto his washboard of a stomach.

I grinned, feeling a little bit happier with myself and I walked over to get my leather jacket, and also to pull on a clean white t-shirt, leaving my jeans from yesterday on. I grabbed my rucksack and keys, then made my way downstairs to the garage, taking out my bike and journeying to school.

I pulled in at the car park, kicking down the stand and turning the key in the ignition, then removing it to my pocket. As I did so, I noticed two figures approaching me: the teacher from yesterday, McHavisham, and the student from the principle's office with the attitude.

"Hello Scott." The teacher said with a bright smile. I removed my helmet and looked up at him with my usual cold expression, then looked back to my bike, trying to decide whether I had enough gas left. "I figured you could use a buddy for school. Someone to show you around, you know?" I raised my eyebrows and began to dismount from my bike. "This is Mortimer."

"Hey." He said politely. No energy involved in his greeting though. I glanced him up and down, wondering if he didn't remember me from yesterday, or if he was genuinely trying to be polite despite our first encounter.

"I'll leave you two together." McHavisham said, turning around and going back up to the school.

"So, we've got-"

"Hey, Mortimer!" We both looked towards who had called his name - the blonde boy was about our age, but wore a black blazer with matching trousers and a white button-up. I rolled my eyes and took out my phone, checking my texts. "Who's this?" And opening up my messages

"Scott." I don't think I had any news texts...

"Cool, I'm Malcolm." I made no motion towards the boy, simply stood and checked my phone. Nope, no new messages. I put my phone away and looked up at the blonde haired boy, noticing something at the back of his head...

"Do you have a ponytail?" I asked, making the boy retract his hand slowly. He looked over to Mortimer with a certain look - he didn't like me. I could tell - this was probably because I had come off a bit accusing when I had no intention of doing so... although guys with ponytails often turn out to be douches.

"Come on Scott," Mortimer said, trying to break the silence, "we have English first."

"No, _you_ have English first." I said, climbing back onto my bike. "_I _have the town to check out. See what's changed and all."

"You can't do that." Stated Malcolm.

"Oh go back to combing your hair." I rolled my eyes at him, climbing back onto my bike and putting the key in ignition.

"Scott, we've got lessons - we'll get in trouble if we-"

"Listen, as riveting as this conversation is - and it really is - I would prefer to continue it on the bike. So, hop on or skip off." I said, offering the helmet to him. He stood there for a moment, considering it.

"Come on Mortimer, let's go to-" Mortimer ignored Malcolm's words and took the helmet, climbing onto the back of the bike. "Mortimer?" I grinned at Malcolm's shocked face. "Mortimer, what are you doing? If Megan finds out she'll-"

"Oh, is that the bell?" I said, looking off into the silent distance. "Ring ring, can't be late, got to go!" I smirked, and revved the bike, turning around slightly and then setting off throughout the town, leaving the boring school behind.


End file.
